Chapter Ten #4
Mickey cleared his throat again. I glanced at him and then steadfastly turned my head to look out the windscreen, giving him space to work out his thoughts.
“My ex, Pete, he was, we were really happy for a while.” Mickey’s tone was dull, not like his usual speaking voice, almost gravelly.
“He moved into the farm and stuff, he worked remotely so it was a pretty nice deal. We’d have lunch together, like...
like you and I have been. I was in love with him, I thought?
Looking back maybe I liked the idea of him more than I actually—” Mickey cut himself off and shook his head.
“He wasn’t open with me, I know that. In response, I was I guess, pretty afraid to talk about what I wanted or hoped for. ”
“Mmhm.” I kept quiet, but I wanted him to know I was listening.
“And we had some trouble. Not at the start. To begin with it was awesome, all kinds of fun... The sex, I mean. We had great sex to start with, when it was all new and exciting. But as we got comfortable together, he stopped talking to me and I stopped... wanting...” Mickey sighed.
This was obviously really hard for him to talk about. I bit my lip, and patted his thigh. “It’s okay. I won’t judge, no matter what you say.”
Mickey laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound.
“I lost interest. I didn’t want to have sex with him.
He was really angry about it. We fought all the time.
He said that because we were together he should get sex on tap, basically.
He always insisted on topping and I didn’t...
I didn’t want it from him, you know? And he wasn’t happy with anything else.
I guess there’s something wrong with me, because I know the young gay men stereotype is meant to be wanting all the sex all the time.
But I just...don’t? Pete hated it. I think he hated me by the end.
Said I was broken and he couldn’t be with anyone like me. ”
Mickey took a ragged breath in.
We were almost to Hartsville. What he’d said had sparked an idea. I had to get it out quick.
“First off, Mickey, you’re not broken. It’s totally okay to want sex or not want it, that isn’t a personality flaw or an issue at all, for me.” I added the ‘for me’ selfishly, because I’m a selfish twink who wants his man. “But what you’re describing, it sounds like you’re demisexual in some way.”
“Demi?” Mickey’s tone made it clear he’d never heard the world.
“Yeah, um, really quickly, it means for you, you need certain conditions met to feel a sexual connectiont to someone. You need to know them really well maybe, or have a genuine connection throughout the day in order to want it at night. It’s actually really common, people just don’t have the language to describe it usually.
For some it means absolutely no sexual attraction until you have a deep connection, for some it fluctuates.
So, yeah.” I paused to take a long overdue breath.
“You’re not broken Mickey. This Pete guy sounds like an asshole for saying that. ”
Mickey pulled the truck into a park by the Hartsville mall and killed the engine. He took another deep breath and looked at me, his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes misty.
“Really?”
My heart ached. I wanted to slide towards him on the bench seat and wrap him in my arms, but first I had to drive this point home.
“Really, Mick. You are not broken, and your ex was a complete tool for saying that to you. Seriously, it’s fucked up. Like the guys who want to be with me because I look like a guy but I still have a vagina. It’s fucked.”
Mickey blinked the tears back and took another breath. “There are guys like that?”
“Yes, but this is about you.” I did slide closer then and took his hand in mine. “Mickey, you’re not weird or broken or anything. You’re just demi.”
Mickey hiccuped and wrapped his arms around me. The steering wheel poked into my side but I didn’t care. I hugged him tight, letting him feel whatever it was he needed to feel.
He sniffled against my shoulder and my heart went all gooey.
“You’re okay, Mick. You’re fine. You’re such a good man. You have the best heart of anyone I know.”
After a minute, Mickey nodded and pulled back, wiping his eyes and swallowing. “I guess I have some reading to do, huh?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, there’s some good books around. Or chat rooms or whatever.”
“Thanks, Aster. Sorry for kinda springing that on you, but... I wanted you to know. It felt wrong keeping it all bottled up.”
“I can’t imagine. You’ve been feeling this way since he left?”
Mickey nodded. And I made a mental note to track down this Pete online and sign him up for some shitty mailing lists. “I hate Pete.”
Mickey chuckled. “Yeah. I think I do, too.”
We slid out of the truck and went about our errands.
I got my posters and Mickey bought some new socks and undershirts.
It reminded me of Dillon bringing me to Hartsville for guy clothes when I first came out.
We wandered around the mall together with the tension between us broken.
Pointing out things that made me laugh and impulse buying a shirt at Hot Topic was fun.
The air was cleared for the most part. I’d casually mentioned my bad experiences, but I don’t know how much I needed to go into with Mickey. Our age gap, and what would Harlow think, seemed to be the biggest obstacles, now.
Well, and Mickey hadn’t actually said he was into me... But why would he tell me all that if he wasn’t?
Surely it meant he wanted to take things further?
I didn’t want to dwell on it. I wanted to enjoy this outing.
We ate at the mall food court, planning to come back to experience the Rainforest Cafe together in a few nights, once we’d had the protest.
We were quiet on the way back, Mickey smiling and humming along to some Johnny Cash on the radio.
I went into Foggy Basin that afternoon and pinned my posters up everywhere. The people I encountered were mostly on the side of not wanting a huge new data center built, so that was a good sign.
Lots promised to turn up to the protest. I hoped they’d keep their word.
Over the weekend Mickey and I watched X-Files together, cooked and didn’t talk about anything too deep and meaningful.
After his confession, I wanted to reassure him that things were cool between us and that I wouldn’t pressure him into doing anything.
We fell into a kind of comfortable rhythm.
I slept in my own bed in the guest room, and although nothing was technically happening... The atmosphere felt optimistic. I hoped it was, anyway, rather than me projecting what I wanted onto it.
To be fair, I was quite distracted, making signs out of old bits of plywood Mickey found in the garage, and being chronically online. The leaflet drop of protest flyers had gone fabulously, thanks to Nova’s organization. I loved that guy, so friendly, so cool.
Online, people were activating.
The Facebook event I’d made for the protest was active. People were sharing it around and I had emails and social media DMs asking for more information.
Replying to everyone took quite a lot of time and attention. It was, honestly, a nice distraction from Mickey and my feelings and his feelings and like... all of that.
Mickey
The day of the protest, we drove into Foggy Basin with the truck bed stocked with signs Aster would hand out to people.
A crowd had turned up, made up of lots of familiar faces. Mr Atkins waved his cane at me. Besides those I knew, there were many faces I didn’t know.
“How did you get so many people?”
Aster grinned. “Most people like Foggy Basin the way it is, quiet and green. Having to pay extra for power to support a data center really pissed off a lot of folks too. Turns out a lot of them are on various social media platforms and once the leaflet drop happened people got in touch. Plus, the poster up at the grocery, and of course,” he waved down the road. “Harlow.”
My sister waved to us from the corner, moving closer with a wide smile on her face. “Hey, you two!”
I hugged her, then stood back so Aster could do the same.
“Now, we’re not marching up Main Street or anything, we’re standing and being annoying, right?” Harlow asked.
“That’s right. Annoying.” Aster started handing out signs. “We want to be loud and annoying and generally get attention.”
“I’ve bought a Bluetooth speaker,” Harlow said. “I can play music.”
“Perfect. Put on some protest music and then the most annoying song you can think of.”
“Hatsune Miku is a queen, but her high-pitched voice can get annoying, right?” Harlow tapped her phone, making a playlist.
“Perfect, she usually has a good beat too.”
“Really? You’re going with a virtual singer from Japan over your local talent?” Tane’s voice preceded a sudden side hug for Aster. I might have got jealous except I’d seen how devoted Tane and Dillon were to each other.
“We’re aiming for annoying, Tane, not gift-of-the-gods masterpiece music.” Aster hugged him back. “Thanks for coming.”
“Hey Mick, Harlow. Apologies from Dillon, he was going to close up and come too, but the delivery guy arrived. I told him about this, he might be by later.” Tane took one of the handmade signs and held it up. “Where do you want me?”
Between us, we organized the crowd on both sides of the street outside town hall.
We played music and chanted at Aster’s prompting. I was in awe. Aster addressed the crowd with ase. He didn’t hesitate, or fumble his words, he just grabbed everyone’s attention and then commanded it.
“No data center! No AI in Foggy!” Within moments we took up the chant.
Aster marched up and down, stomping his feet and keeping people on the beat, and leading the chant.
He was so impressive.
His time on stage as a drag king would have boosted his confidence but I was still impressed. I couldn’t possibly have drummed up the crowd like this, I’d have come over all shy.
The council members were already inside having a meeting, but we saw some come to the window and look out before vanishing again. Half hour, one came out to talk to us.